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Lying kids are like poker players.
They each have a "Tell".
A little sign giving away their bluff.
Most professional poker players try to disguise these
"tells" by wearing sun glasses or horrible hats.
It must work for them because they make ridiculous amounts of money.
I would not have been a successful poker player.
When I was a kid I was always shocked when my
mother knew that I wasn't being completely honest with her.
How ever did she know?
I'm sure I messed up my hair and
rubbed my eyes enough to look as though I had been napping for hours.
(Unfortunately, my 5 year old concept of time was
much more skewed than my wiley mother's.)
I now realize it was not that my mom had some
truth uncovering ability...
I just wasn't very smart or creative.
I don't think any sort of eyewear or hat could have helped me.
I was a lousy liar.
Fortunately, my kids inherited this trait.
I've got their "tells" down pretty pat...
except for one of them.
Lindsay just breaks down crying, racked with guilt that
she has disappointed her mother.
And she rarely lies anyway.
Easy Peasy.
Miss Makenna says "uhm" and "well" a lot
while she looks around aimlessly......
like candy from a baby.
Ethan simply stares at me in silence.
Tyson is just fat.
They do the same thing every time they lie.
Now, if she knew the difference between
a spade and a club and if it
wasn't breaking some sort of child labor laws,
I would sign
Olivia
up on the National Poker Tour....
Lie detector tests break down in fear when she is nearby.
She's figured it out -
no glasses or hats necessary.
She has no "tell".
She simply does something different every time.
It's very confusing.
It's like she has some juvenile form of Jedi Mind Power...
"These aren't the droids you're looking for...move along".
She's very clever and quick on her feet.
My only hope is that she will channel this power for good
and become a best-selling fiction author instead
of author of some Ponzi scheme.
I've somehow got to crack her.
Since Gepetto already owns the nose growing trick
I'm currently in the process of developing a pair of pants
that will actually catch on fire when a child tells a lie.
But I've got to hurry up,
I only have 9 years until she's 16...
and dating boys...
and driving cars.
I may have to resort to a plan involving handcuffing her to her bed.
You know, if the pants don't work out.
